


Clothed Getting Off

by katsudonfemmefatale



Series: 30 Day NSFW Challenge (Victuuri) [6]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 30 Day NSFW Challenge, Clothed Sex, Coach Victor Nikiforov, Eros Katsuki Yuuri, First Kiss, Ice Skating, M/M, One Shot, One Shot Collection, POV Katsuki Yuuri, Public Hand Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 08:06:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9482147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katsudonfemmefatale/pseuds/katsudonfemmefatale
Summary: Yuuri's finally found his Eros... But it looks like Viktor's worked out what it is too





	

**Author's Note:**

> Didn't think I'd get this one done! Phew!

"No-one in the whole wide world knows your true eros, Yuuri. It may be an alluring side of you that you yourself are unaware of. Can you show me what it is soon?"

Yuuri's mind was spinning out of control. Viktor was so close to him, chest leaned in, one golden skate pressed in-between his, Viktor's thumb pressed gently on Yuuri's bottom lip, their noses practically brushing together. Viktor's hand was so soft, his eyes even more beautiful and crystal blue than Yuuri thought possible, his breath minty and yet with an undertone of something so undeniably  _him_. Yuuri could feel his cheeks burning, could feel the beads of sweat forming on his brow and chilling in the cold of the ice rink. He wanted to close his eyes... but somehow he couldn't look away.

_"Hey, Viktor! Aren't you teaching me first?!"_

Yurio's yelling caused Viktor to pull away slightly, and Yuuri felt himself slip out of the trance he found himself slowly falling into due to Viktor's proximity. Even though his cheeks felt like they were on fire and he was pretty sure he hadn't breathed in the past 60 seconds, when Viktor pulled away it felt like his heart had been snatched out of his chest. He wanted him back closer, wanted his fingers on his lips, wanted to study every speck of colour in those aquamarine eyes.  
Yuuri was so full with the feeling of the memory of Viktor's touch that he hadn't even considered his words. Viktor wanted to see Yuuri's eros... He knew that he must be referring to the programme Viktor had choreographed for him, and yet his words were so loaded, they were almost... _promising_.

Viktor started working with Yurio first, as per his promise to the boy, but Yuuri was determined to prove himself worthy to Viktor. He couldn't get the image of Viktor skating eros out of his head. Those jumps, that look in his eyes, that seductive step sequence. Yuuri was glad he hadn't been speaking aloud when he told himself it might be able to impregnate him, but he was still certain it was true. Viktor was sex on ice. If skaters used the ice to convey what they were feeling in that moment, then Viktor's choreography for eros was _pornographic_.  
As Nishigori helped him stretch, Yuuri made up a story he had been thinking of to impress Viktor so he would be convinced Yuuri would be able to skate the routine convincingly. He didn't sound convinced. _"Woo! Take me now!"_ He quipped sarcastically, stating it didn't exactly sound like Yuuri.  
It was true. It wasn't Yuuri. That was exactly the problem.

Yuuri had never talked to anyone about how he really felt. It didn't really matter. His whole life was skating. People could pass off the fact that he didn't have many other hobbies, the fact that he had never had a girlfriend, the fact that he didn't like to go out drinking and clubbing like other young guys his age, simply because he was an athlete. He had never had to have any awkward conversations with his family. Minako had teased him a little about being a virgin when she was drunk sometimes, but mostly it was never referred to. Well, except for one person.

_"Yuuri, are you gay?"_

_Yuuri's head snapped up from his essay immediately. He turned from the desk where he was working to stare at his friend, nonchalantly lying on his bed on his stomach, resting his inquisitive face in his hands. Yuuri's face was burning. He had a million responses, a million questions, and yet his mouth couldn't form any words at all._

_"I mean, it's no problem! Don't worry about it or anything! I just kinda figured, but you never mentioned, so I thought I'd ask."_

_Phichit's mouth was formed in a gentle smile, his eyes wide. Yuuri could tell he genuinely meant it. He really had hit the jackpot when being roomed with the Thai skater. They bonded over so much, had so much in common, but mainly he loved that Phichit never pushed him, and never judged him. Despite his extreme embarrassment at the bluntness of the question, he felt like the least he could do was afford his friend an honest answer._

_"I... I don't know."_

_"Well... Do you like Viktor?"_

_Yuuri looked around at the posters gathered around his bed. Did he like Viktor Nikiforov? That would be hard to deny given his decorative choices (both in his dorm room and back home in Hasetsu), but he knew Phichit was talking about something different. Did he like Viktor? He thought again. He still didn't know. It had seemed perfectly normal to have posters of a male idol on his wall when he was a kid, but he was 21 now. If it had been anyone else, he would have had no question about their sexuality. Suddenly nothing was about skating anymore. Everything in his 21 years seemed to culminate in this precise moment. His big moment of realisation was about to happen in his dingy dorm room with the unattractive lemon wallpaper, and his foreign friend._

_"Um... maybe. I-I've never really thought about it... I don't think..."_

_Phichit flashed him a warm smile again._

_"It's okay, Yuuri! I'm not entirely sure about all that myself. Like I said, I just thought I'd ask. I hope I get to see you compete against him someday soon. You're good enough."_

_Yuuri was touched. Phichit's words echoed something that Yuko had told him years ago. He was grateful._

After that conversation with Phichit, Yuuri started to question. He Googled lots of embarrassing things, and found himself in lots of forums with people questioning their sexuality, and he didn't feel so alone. Then something happened.  
His friend Adam was skating and attempted a quad he hadn't before. He over rotated and his ankle came down with a harrowing snap, then his head, a loud crack echoing throughout the rink and chilling Yuuri to the bone. Red seeped invasively onto the white ice. Then everything was a blur of screaming and ambulances and the clinical smell of the hospital which made Yuuri feel nauseous.  
Hours later, Yuuri found himself in a hospital corridor, falling asleep in an uncomfortable chair. There was shuffling next to him, and a girl who was also at the rink sank into the chair beside Yuuri. They had had a few conversations before, but nothing of particular interest. Now, she was here, apologising for how she dictated Yuuri must be feeling. He didn't even understand why she was there. Were she and Adam friends? Yuuri hadn't seen them together. After a few minutes of babbling about how terrible Yuuri must be feeling and how sorry she was, she leaned in close and attempted to wrap her arms around him.  
Yuuri stood abruptly, pushing her away in the process. He walked quickly down the corridor, needing to be away from her. He hadn't been oblivious to the fact that she was hitting on him. It had happened a couple of times before, but he had usually been able to brush it off with tact. This wasn't so tactful, but in that moment he didn't care. He walked out into the cool Detroit air. Shit. Why was he like this? Why did he always push them away?  
Then it hit him.  
Whenever he thought about his goals? Viktor. When he thought about his future? Viktor? When he watched tv? Viktor skating. Reading his phone at night? News about Viktor. The damn posters all over his room? His computer screensaver? His phone wallpaper? His damn family dog?  
 _He was in love with him._

Now he stood, watching Nishigori laugh, and admitting internally that he was right.  
The story hadn't been convincing. He wasn't a playboy. He wasn't seducing any girls. He didn't know how. How was he ever going to be able to skate this with feeling?

The next week he lay in bed, unable to get Eros out of his head. He had been trying all week. He really had. He even made up a ridiculous excuse regarding katsudon to get everyone off his back, but now he felt like he had made everything worse, probably convincing Viktor that he was too immature to ever be able to skate to such a theme. Viktor was a sex God, wanted world over. Yuuri knew everyone would prefer to see Viktor skate the alluring routine; what could they possibly find attractive about a four-eyed, 23 year old virgin?!  
Yuuri sighed. The skate-off was tomorrow. He needed to ease some of this tension.  
He looked around, ensuring he had properly closed his door, then allowed his hand to trail down, ghosting over his trousers, teasing himself just enough to get hard. When he began to strain uncomfortably against his jeans, he pulled his boxers back, and lazily began to stroke his length. He tried to clear his mind, tried not to think about Eros, but he couldn't help it. Yep, he was definitely not a playboy. Do you know who was? Viktor. Yuuri thought about the story he had constructed. Viktor would fit that role well. The attractive guy that went from town to town seducing people... then he tries to seduce someone who rejects his advances..

_"No-one in the whole wide world knows your true eros, Yuuri..."_

Yuuri's dick pulsed, unpromptedly imagining himself as the person Viktor was seducing...

_"...Can you show me what it is soon?"_

Oh, if only he could.

Suddenly Yuuri was replaying his own story in his mind, but Viktor was playing the role of the playboy and Yuuri was the one he seduced. He knew he should stop. He shouldn't be thinking about his coach in this way... He shouldn't... He shouldn't...

His pace quickened.

He shouldn't...

I want to see your Eros, Yuuri...

He shouldn't...

Viktor...

He shouldn't...

And yet, suddenly Yuuri was coming with a shout, semen spurting over his hand and chest as in his head the playboy finally managed to get him into bed and have his way with him.

Oh _God_.

Yuuri rushed around, cleaning up, completely embarrassed.

He had just finished getting changed when a thought flashed through his mind.  
Eros.  
He had been looking and looking, and it was right here the whole time.  
This was his Eros.  
He grabbed his bag and headed for the door in a rush.  
He had to go to the studio.

\-----------

He spun. His arms wrapped around his chest. The music stopped.  
His muscles singed, sweat poured down his face, his costume suddenly felt too tight, he couldn't see, the crowd's roaring boomed in his ears, his breath was heavy, his body flushing.

He didn't want to look up.  
He didn't want to gauge Viktor's reaction.  
He wasn't sure if he could even look him in the face right now.  
And was that a whistle he had heard from his direction at the start of the performance?

He swallowed and allowed himself to travel to the side of the rink.

\------------

He had won.

He had actually won.

Viktor wouldn't be going back to Russia. Well, at least not right now. And Yurio had disappeared. Yuuri was a little worried, but he also knew the boy had made it all the way to Japan unassisted, and so decided to give him a little credit that he could do the journey back alone too.  
Once all the spectators had dissipated, he and Viktor remained alone in the changing room. Yuuri was throwing back an ice cold bottle of water, not so much because he was thirsty, but more because it was keeping him awake. He had stayed up most of the previous night with Minako teaching him how to move in feminine ways once he had realised what was lacking from his performance. It was late now, and although Yuuri knew his body ached for sleep, the adrenaline was keeping him so very awake.

"Yuuri, I wish I knew what to say! That performance was better than I've ever seen you! What changed?"

Viktor was leaning against the lockers opposite. Yuuri swallowed the cold water in his mouth and looked at the floor. How was he supposed to answer that? He could never tell him the truth. He could never reveal that what had helped him skate, that what had helped him bring forth his true Eros, was Viktor... Imagining Viktor close to him... Touching him... Kissing-

"Yuuri?"

There was a brush against him as Viktor sat on the bench.  
Reflexively, Yuuri stood.

"Nothing! Just practice I guess" he blurted out, entirely unconvincingly. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and sent a chill through his spine. He tried to still the movement, but failed, his shoulders rolling and head tipping slightly with the movement. Then there were fingers on his shoulders.

"I'm worried, Yuuri. You don't seem yourself."

Yuuri's eyelashes fluttered, his eyes rolling back at even that tiniest touch of Viktor's. He was glad his coach stood behind him and couldn't see his face. Heat began to rush downward in his body as he remembered all the things that flashed through his mind as he skated. This costume was entirely unforgiving. Yuuri was slightly bigger than Viktor had been when he wore it, still young, his muscles not quite as pronounced... but on Yuuri, it showed every curve of his body. Every muscle. Every ripple. Every swell. If he continued thinking like this the image of him in the tight black fabric would be mortifying.

"I should change."

Yuuri stated, taking a step forward to the lockers. He had been entirely unprepared.  
Long fingers grazed over his waist before strong arms snaked entirely around his middle. He felt Viktor's fringe tickle against the back of his neck, and his warm breath seemed to travel down to Yuuri's toes as he stood, frozen.

"I like you in this costume."

Viktor's lips were pressed up close to Yuuri's ear.  
Every part of Yuuri was sure he should be fleeing, running out of the rink in embarrassment, and yet all he could think about was how Viktor's voice sounded when he was this close. His voice was low, his accent thick, and he could almost feel the reverberations of the words coming from his throat. He wondered how it would feel for his lips to be on Viktor's pale throat as he moaned, then quickly shook the thought from his head. Finally, he managed to speak.

"Maybe the costume improved the routine."

"I don't think so." Viktor drawled. Yuuri was sure that the way he was talking was completely deliberate. It was entirely too breathy, entirely too seductive, to be used for anything else than to tease Yuuri. "I think you discovered something you're not telling me, Yuuri. I think you truly discovered your Eros."

And then lips were brushing against Yuuri's neck, right behind his ear. Yuuri's breath hitched in his throat.

"Tell me about it. Tell me what you were thinking while you skated." Viktor's voice was commanding now.

"Nothing."

Yuuri was testing him now. It was clear what Viktor was doing, but a small part of Yuuri still couldn't accept it. This was Viktor Nikiforov for God's sake! Maybe Viktor was testing him too. Maybe he just wanted to see if he could make Yuuri unravel.  
Before Yuuri could bring the thought to completion, elegant fingers splayed over his stomach, travelling slowly downward.

"I won't stop until you tell me."

 _"V-Viktor_..."

"Although of course, I'm not sure I promise to stop even then."

Yuuri could feel the smile playing on his lips. What did he have to lose? Viktor was intoxicating. He wanted to take all of this in. He wanted to soak up every part of Viktor that he could. In fact, he wanted to for a long, long time. What was stopping him now? He swallowed hard, and when his voice finally dared to escape, it was barely a whisper.

" _You_."

"Please speak up, Yuuri."

" _YOU_."

"Oh? What about me?"

Still teasing. Viktor's lips continued to graze, painfully lightly over Yuuri's neck, stopping infrequently to plant gentle kisses that made Yuuri shiver. He allowed himself to exhale at the touch, but did not answer.  
Viktor's fingers travelled up, and he punched lightly at a pert nipple through Yuuri's costume. When had that happened, Yuuri wondered? And quickly he thought if any other parts of his body had gone to the trouble to erect themselves without his brain's permission.

"Did you think about this?" Viktor asked.

"Yes."

He was too far gone now. He was going along with this. He was allowing Viktor to pull at his edges, allowing himself to fray, turning to string in his coach's hands.  
Viktor moved his head around to the right of Yuuri's neck and kissed. This time it wasn't as gentle, but wet, and as he pulled away, Viktor sucked lightly at the sensitive skin.

"About this?"

" _Mmm_. Yes."

Viktor's hands travelled downwards, his hands spreading and flat against the front of Yuuri's thighs, stroking the length of them and stopping achingly close to where Yuuri was not silently begging to be touched.

"This?"

This time Yuuri didn't speak, but assented with a moan.

Viktor's hands rolled around to the back of Yuuri's body and clutched his ass. It was a move Yuuri hadn't been anticipating, and until this moment didn't know he would enjoy this much. It wasn't a part of his body that got much attention. It was pleasantly surprising to note how sensitive he was here.

"Did you know how envious I am of this, Yuuri? It must be the energy you give to your step sequences. I wish I had an ass as nice as this."

Viktor allowed himself to feel every curve, but Yuuri couldn't accept the compliment.

"You are _so_ wrong, Viktor."

It was the first time Yuuri had ever disagreed with Viktor, as either an idol or a coach.

"Nothing in the _world_ could compare to yours."

Suddenly Yuuri was being spun, his nose tip to tip with the gorgeous Russian, whose eyes were heavy and hungry and gorgeous. Viktor grabbed Yuuri's hands and pulled them round so he was clutching Viktor's ass. Yuuri's exhaled. Was this actually happening?

"You think so?" Viktor asked, smirking. "You still haven't answered my question, though. I want to know what you thought about during your routine."

And then something changed. Yuuri couldn't hold back anymore, and he didn't want to. He crushed his lips against Viktor's, allowing himself to finally show him, to wordlessly tell him, to convey with an action what his anxiety made it so difficult to do with words. Viktor kissed him back fervently, and then he was parting his lips, and then their tongues were untwined, and then Viktor was pushing him back, Yuuri's head knocking against the metal of the lockers.  
Yuuri's hands were still on Viktor's ass, but now he was grabbing, pulling Viktor closer, and he felt Viktor rut against him, actually grinding his hips up and into Yuuri's. The friction caused Yuuri to buck, and he unintentionally bit down a little on his lip. He expected Viktor to pull away, and instead, he moaned.  
Yuuri's head was pounding, he was too warm, Viktor's tongue was too gorgeous, his taste too delicious, and he could feel another part of Viktor pressed into his hip that he couldn't even bear to think about. Before he realised it, he was thrusting, searching for friction that wasn't there. Viktor pulled away and moved his mouth to Yuuri's ear. He nibbled at his earlobe which sent sparks down through his body. _Oh_.

"Do you want me to touch you?"

Viktor's question was unnecessary. Of course Yuuri wanted him to touch. He craved him. He wanted him more than anything. But somehow he couldn't... He wouldn't ask. He wanted to be taken.

"Tell me Yuuri... In your mind, on the ice, was I touching you?"

Yuuri remained silent.

"Lyubov Moya... I am not doing anything until I'm sure you want me to."

Yuuri's cheeks flushed. He didn't want to say anything, but he knew he had to. Viktor was being so considerate.

"Yes. I mean, y-yes, I was thinking about it. I do. I want it."

Quicker than he expected, Viktor had hold of him through the thin Lycra, and was palming him. Viktor's hand was large, supple, gentle, skilful, and already entirely too much. Yuuri moaned. Viktor's left hand joined, sliding down to play with his balls.  
Oh, _yes_.

"Viktor..."

The fabric was thin and elastic, and Viktor was able to grab a better hold of Yuuri's length through it than expected. He began to pump, his thumb pressing lightly over the head, and Yuuri was moaning, deep and guttural into Viktor's ear.

"I'm glad you've been thinking of me, Yuuri. I've been thinking about you too. I can't seem to stop thinking about you. I'm glad you finally realised... When I saw you on the ice I knew it was for me... I knew I had to have you."

Yuuri could feel wetness beginning to soak through the fabric. It was too much. Everything Viktor was saying, everything Viktor was saying...

"Viktor, I'm going-"

"Good. Come for me, Yuuri. I want to see your Eros in all its glory. It all for me, isn't it?"

Yuuri was thrusting into Viktor's grasp now.

"Yes... _yes_... Viktor, it's all for you. It's only ever been you. Oh _God_..."

Everything turned white, and Viktor's lips were suddenly crushing into his again, silencing Yuuri's heavy moan from the echo of the changing room. He was coming, hard, right into his costume. Viktor continued kissing him as he rode out his orgasm, which felt neverending.  
When he did eventually allow the last waves to pass over him, he collapsed a little and Viktor supported him in his arms.

"I hope you're not tired?" Viktor said questioningly.

"I have much bigger plans for you when we get home."


End file.
